Miserere
by Nuri
Summary: Everyone needs a little Redemption and Mercy. But who needs it more? Eventual S/H
1. Prolouge

Harry Potter and all character within belong to J. Rowling. Not me. I'll gladly take Snape off her hands though.

After re-reading my own and several other fics, I seemed to have gleamed several little details from other fics. I don't remember if I read them before or after I started to write, so if things sound a little familiar (such as Draco) I'm sorry, and speak up, so I can give credit where it's deserved. I did not deliberately steal big ideas, and we all know that Hermione returning as a teacher is not a new idea.

Miserere

Parce, Domine, parce populo tuo  
ne in aeternum irascaris nobis  
Miserere nostrum, Deus, secundum magnam misericordiam tuam.

(Lord, spare your people,  
do not be angry with us forever.  
Have mercy on us, O God, according to your great mercy.)

This was not the way Hermione Granger meant to return to Hogwarts. The uprising of Voldemort had taken the lives or injured several of her classmates especially her Housemates, who had fought with typical Gryffindor blind bravery. 

Despite how heroically all the Hogwarts staff had fought when a pitched battle had found it's way to the school, there were two or three positions that had to be temporarily or permanently as Hogwarts reopened it's doors. Hermione had been asked to help fill Muggle Studies and a few sections of Arithmancy while Professor Vector healed from an extensive injury. It was as if no one returned unscathed from the battles. Hermione bore her own as part of the trio that defeated the Dark Lord. She unfortunately, was not there as Harry had done, whatever it was that killed him. Indeed, it was a miracle that he had survived. But he refused to talk about it when he returned to consciousness afterwards.

But here was a newly made Professor, just entering the meticulously kept grounds of her former school, searching for a familiar face somewhere among the ashes and broken wands. It had been six years. She had been schooled and fought in a war. It was a full life already.

"My dear, you are early. You weren't supposed to arrive until tomorrow, Miss Granger. But then, you usually were the punctual type." Professor McGonagall caught up with the bushy haired woman.  
"Professor…erm I mean, Minerva?" Hermione looked nervously at her former head of house, unsure of what to call her now.

"I assure you, Minerva will be just fine." She motioned for them to start walking again before asking, "How are you managing?"

"As well as can be." A few more steps in the silence, "Do I know any of the new teachers?"

"One. Our new Divination teacher you wouldn't know. She apparently saw what was happening and hid quite well. We were all surprised with Trelawney actaully knew what would happen to her." Her voice paused considering the next statement. "But you will know the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher. We've received word from Draco Malfoy…"

"Draco? I knew he had retreated from his father, but to actually come back here? I'm amazed."

Minerva stopped suddenly and looked at the new Professor. "Draco did a lot more than we give him credit for, unfortunately. He didn't just retreat from his father, Hermione, he…he killed him."

Hermione's eyes widened. She hadn't heard that part. As much as she had hated Draco during school, she had heard that he had turned away his fathers' organization. But to kill your own father…unthinkable. Especially a father like Lucius, who controlled his life. 

"But he does not want that little token of information leaked out, Hermione, so keep it on the quiet." She yet again motioned to move forward. Hogwarts grounds had never seemed so long, not when Hermione was this nervous.

"Of course…" looking a bit around Hermione noticed something, "Where are the rest of the teachers, anyway?"

"In a meeting. We became aware when you entered the grounds."

Of course, thought Hermione, Dumbledore always seemed to know when someone got here as of late. Security in the months following the attack on Hogwarts had tripled. Nothing seemed safe…the idea that Voldemort (_Yes_, Hermione thought, _I can say that name now_) had the gall, the nerve to attack the one place that had been deemed the safe point in Scotland was frightening. 

But, Hogwarts had fought back. Hard. It was a stepping stone in the war many believed. Whether or not that was true, didn't matter. The real stepping stone was when the trio came back together, something neither of them liked to talk about anymore. 

I'll have to tell someone eventually, the thought reached the tip of her tongue before Hermione bit on it. Minerva looked at her as Hermione winced slightly in pain.

"Is there something?" she asked

"No Minerva, just…bit my tongue. I'm a tad nervous."

Her old Professor smiled, "Well, that's to be expected." Things fell silent again. "There isn't anything else you need to tell me?"

__

Not yet…

"No." the brunette looked upwards at the castle. "It's quite inspiring. The way Hogwarts looks menacing and yet so much like home at the same time." Hermione smiled, "But I'm ready. I can't wait to teach. Even if it's alongside Draco."

----

Even though the room was familiar, it seemed stark and bare without the chatter Hermione was used to at Hogwarts as a student. The room wasn't the same one she had been placed in before as a student, but all the rooms were similar when empty. True, it was bigger and true, it was a nicer looking room, but it was empty and lonely. There would be no Ron or Harry here to keep her from her books, causing mischief and sorting out the mysteries of Hogwarts. There was just her now, some new Divination teacher and Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy, the scourge of her time spent as a student, was going to be teaching alongside her. Not a happy course of events, but one she would have to manage with anyway. "He's likely changed much more than I have." She mused to herself, "After all, what with his father…" 

Resigning to her bed, a very tiny owl entered her room. "Pig!" The tireless owl, no bigger than it had been when she was a student dropped off a small letter and scurried back out the window.

The letter was thin, with only a single sheet of paper. Ron wasn't much for words these days. After a first glance she realized that dealing with the French witch had turned him into a bigger bumbling fool.

__

Just a quick note before you start your new job 'Mione: Everything is status quo now. Harry still bustles in and out of nightmare-filled sleep. Gabrielle keeps dragging me around hoping to find a place to have the wedding. I told her that I'd have it anywhere, but you're a woman, you know how you people are. 

Things must be going tough around Hogwarts. I know you'll be a great teacher, after all you helped me with my N.E.W.T's. If you can do that…you can do anything. I know you have your own issues and secrets to deal with, but I hope you'll send back an owl or two when you settle.

Ron Weasley

"My secret to keep. That Ron Weasley! " Hermione shook her head. "Worthless git of a friend." She smiled, "But it is better than making up ways of how he'll be killed."

So here was Hermione Granger, 2 weeks before the start of her first term teaching, musing about her own schooling.

---Prior by 2 weeks---

Ellen Knightford looked over a letter that was slipped through the mailslot. It was her 11th birthday, and she was expecting many cards, but this one was different. Her father always told her that if she happened to find a letter, addressed like this, to show it to him, and not to inform her mother. She opened the door and found an owl on the streetlight nearby. "How odd…." She noted, setting off to find her father. "Father!"

"In the study!" Benjamin Knightford replied. A few seconds later, his daughter appeared in the doorway. 

"I received this." The brunette with slight curls held up her letter. Her father smiled softly.

"So it is to be." Standing up, his smile turned into a grin. "In sorry, honey, but you won't be attending your normal school from now on."

"What! Why?" Ellen looked shocked.

"Open the letter"

She did as her father continued. "What you have in front of you is an amazing opportunity dearest. You are a witch, and you will be trained as one. Hogwarts is a fine school, and all the trouble has past." He looked at his daughter with great joy. "I know you wouldn't end up without any magic."

"Magic…it's real?"

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?" Benjamin walked to a bookshelf and took down a slender, long box. "This is my wand. I remember being at your age, receiving my wand. I gave up being a wizard when I met your mother though. But you are going to Hogwarts. Why it's the finest school there is!"

---Start of Term—

Hermione Granger had not seen Draco Malfoy…or for that matter, Severus Snape. Neither had shone their heads. Snape, she had been told was in his dungeon room, preparing lessons for the fifth years. Draco, however, hadn't disappeared. He gave word that he'd be arriving on the Hogwarts Express, due to unavoidable circumstances.

Hermione however decided to stick with the normal lesson plan that the unfortunate teacher had left behind. She'd eventually change them, to keep up with the times. In order to, she started receiving a weekly magazine published by disguised witches and wizards in Britain.

Now it was the day that term started and all the teachers were gathering to "welcome" the new students. She took her place at the teachers' table, noticing that the place card next to her said "Snape" and the other said "Malfoy"

__

Oh this will be interesting indeed. 

Next on Miserere: What does the sorting hat reveal about Ellen? Stuck Between Slytherins, and just what is Hermione's secret?


	2. The Professors Dare

With thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon and Rhymnezone.com. I love writing poetry, but rhyming couplets is evil.

Once again, me no own.

Great thanks to my wonderful friend and Beta, Emily. I am determined to get her to love this coupling, silly girl, reading fics with all shag and no plot. Tsk, Tsk, Tsk.

Special thanks go to the **WIKTT** list for lively conversation and a couple of helpful reviews. 

Miserere

Grind away, moisten and mash up thy paste,  
Pound at thy powder,--I am not in haste!  
Better sit thus and observe thy strange things,  
Than go where men wait me and dance at the King's.  
–From The Laboratory, Robert Browning

****

The Professors Dare

1st year

September 1st 

The air inside the Great Hall was tense. To Ellen, there seemed to be a vast number of people at the other tables, with many more waiting anxiously to be 'sorted'. She wasn't quite sure what that meant. Her father had briefly noted the speech the hat had made, and how proud he was to be a Hufflepuff…Whatever _that_ meant. First of all, how could a hat sing? She mentally chided herself - this wasn't the Muggle world anymore, and she had to accept new things.

On the other side of the room, Hermione perused the four dining tables, one assigned to each of the school's houses. There were not as many students as she remembered there being, especially among the first years. She was used to big, more than a hundred people per class, yet the first years hardly reached fifty. The tables seemed emptier than before, as if the students have been picked clean. Hermione sadly noticed that the Gryffindor table reflected this more than the others.

The door opened once again and three professors stepped in, rushing towards their spots at the staff table with somber looks. Professors Snape and Malfoy took their seats beside Hermione. She waited patiently for the traditional words that she had heard so often to be spoken, and smiled slightly when Dumbledore stood and began making an announcement.

"I would like to begin with a moment of silence, for those who are no longer with us and those that never will be." 

The hall went silent, save for a few dashed sobs here and there. Ellen's father had told her very little about what happened in recent history, and she could only liken this Dark Wizard to another very nasty man from Muggle history who held power during the 30's and 40's. It still boggled her mind at how anyone's conscience could rot like that. But to target children?! King Herod had nothing on this Voldemort fellow. 

The moment of silence ended and in-between the seconds, conversations began brewing between the first years flew regarding the new teachers. Apparently, they were famous.

"Look, there's Granger! She helped _Potter_!" exclaimed a girl.

"Wasn't his father a Death Eater…?" a short, dirty-blond pointed out Malfoy.

"So was Snape!" a chubby girl hissed.

"…still evil, at least that's what my brother says."

"Your brother wasn't very good at potions."

Ellen was so entranced by the conversation that she didn't even hear the speech that the Headmaster made about the old, decrepit-looking hat that Professor McGonagall had set on a wooden stool. Ellen was startled to hear it sing.

__

"Though the years are long ahead  
Certain aspects must be laid to rest.  
Whether your heart is sugar or lead  
I will know, for I do not guess.  
Many obstacles you must have faced  
In order to be placed this new home  
In fact, I'll place you in good taste  
In the House where you will roam.  
For seven long years as you grow  
Strong and stately in your power  
In what you have and will know.  
And even from our highest tower  
Cheers with cover every corner  
As I tell you each your certain place.  
Give no tales like a somber mourner  
As I start your first year of Grace.  
Will you be a brave-minded Gryffindor?  
Who honor and boldness move.  
Or perhaps as a Hufflepuff you'll soar  
Where patient loyalty you'll prove.  
Maybe a Ravenclaw's wit is your delight  
If you have a natural ready mind at all.  
Slytherins take cunning to a new height  
Be careful of ambitions, they enthrall.  
Now here I am, just a lonely cap  
With all the thinking inside the brim  
But smart am I, myself a cunning chap.  
I know where you belong from my trim.  
Now sit down and let me listen to your heart  
I have many people today to hear  
I'll find where you and others first start.  
But now, there's no reason to fear."

The school burst into excited applause, as Hermione expected. She gazed at the students, who were obviously discussing the high- and low-points of each house; which one was best (Why, Gryffindor of course!), and which you definitely did _not_ want to be in. 

As the students began to be sorted, Hermione stole a glance at Draco. If she hadn't known him before, she would have taken him for a younger, blonder version of the other Professor sitting beside her.

He looked older - _But I suppose we all do,_ she thought - His face seemed longer, and his eyes dulled as he looked down at his empty plate. Her attention turned back to watching the sorting.

"Fairview, Abbey!" McGonagall called, consulting a long strip of parchment.  
"RAVENCLAW!"the Sorting Hat roared.

It was getting closer and closer to Ellen's turn, and she shook like a leaf as she waited for her own name to be called. She had no idea which house she wanted to be in. They all seemed like decent places to live. _All I know, is that I want to do the best I can! _She thought.

"Harrington, Julian!"  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Jenning, Bradley!"  
"GRYFFINDOR!"

The girl next to Ellen turned to her and grinned. "I suppose I'll be in Gryffindor, too, then. They say it runs in the family."

"Jenning, Carla!"

"SYLTHERIN!" The girl stood up, shell-shocked, as her housemates cheered.

"Knightford, Ellen." Ellen stood, making her way to the dais. The walk seemed to go on forever, but she quickly pulled the hat on when she reached the stool, closing her eyes tightly.

"An interesting mind..." the hat murmured softly into her ear. "Full of dreams you've just realized you had. But do you have the guts to grasp them? You better be careful…I think the best place for you is…SLYTHERIN!"

Carla looked up, slightly happier, as Ellen made her way over to the Slytherin table. She grinned. "I think we'll have a good time here, Carla."

Only a few more students joined them at the table, as if no real Slytherin family had wanted their children to join Hogwarts. After questioning the five or so other new members, it was revealed that none of them had a Slytherin member in their blood.

"Must be wanting a new start to the house." A boy, Ellen recalled that his name was Devin Weaver, spoke up, and just before Dumbledore began his next announcement of what areas of the castle were forbidden. The headmaster then began introducing the new teachers.

"My dear children, due to the battle here at this school last year, we've had to institute new teachers. I am proud to announce that two of them are recent graduates of Hogwarts. I'd ask that they'd please rise when I call their names. Professor Hermione Granger, teaching Muggle Studies and upper levels of Arithmancy." Hermione stood. "Professor Draco Malfoy, Defense Against the Dark Arts. And our new Divination teacher, Ingrid Olsson."

Hermione finally caught a glance at the only teacher she was not familiar with. The first thing she noticed was that she was strikingly beautiful - soft blonde hair, falling to her shoulders in curls. Even from halfway across the table, her clear blue eyes spoke with a knowledge that went farther than the sun. She did not smile, but kept a neutral expression. There was a sense of true power about her and was no Professor Trelawney, by any means. 

"We had to search far and wide to find a suitable replacement for Divination," Dumbledore said proudly. "And we believe we have found her. Students, welcome your new Professors. " Dumbledore smiled as the students cheered, and the food for the Start of Term Feast appeared. 

A boy at Ellen's table stuck out his hand. "I'm Ian. Ian Beck." With his other hand he stuffed a roll into his mouth. She took his hand with an amused smile. 

"Ellen Knightford."

"Knightford, huh? Woulda had you figured for Hufflepuff. After all, your entire wizarding family's been in there."

"How would you know?"

"My family is one of the oldest Wizarding families there is! We study everyone's family line."

"Ian, you'd do better if you concentrated more on your studies than everyone else's family." Carla said curtly.

"Yeah well, yours is a new family. Of course you'd say that!"

"Hermione?" Hermione turned to face Draco.

"Yes?"

She couldn't help but to noticed that he finally looked up from the table to talk to her, a far cry from the confident Malfoy she was used too.

"Nervous much?" he said, trying to lighten his voice. 

Hermione smiled back, "Just a little. It's a bit different view from here, isn't it?"

"Quite a bit. Did you see the girls sorted into Slytherin? Jennings looked appalled."

"I would be." Hermione said slyly. "They now have to deal with Severus over there." 

Draco brightened, looking over at his callous colleague. "Oh, he's not that bad, once you get past the temper… and the solitude… and the hair."

"I will not tolerate this, Draco." Snape snapped. "Nor you, Miss Granger."

"Are you going to call us by our last names, just as you did when we were students?" Hermione asked.

"You still have much to learn." 

"Right, like about how to scare students. If you think that gives you respect, you are wrong, Severus. It only makes them fear you." The dark, distraught Professor only shook his head.

"That is precisely what I want. I am not here to be their friend. I am here to try and impart some knowledge on their unreceptive brains."

Hermione turned back to Draco, who had returned to staring at the table.

"And here I thought _I_ was stuck between a rock and a hard place," a very gentle voice sounded.

"Ahh, Ingrid." Hermione smiled, looking up. "What brings you over to the gloomy side of the table?"

"A simple bet, ja?" The blonde, perfect to the student's eyes, put plainly. "To my dear, grumpy Potions Master."

"I do not make bets with people who claim they can see the future in the bottom of a teacup." Said grumpy Potions Master responded beneath hooded eyes.

"I will promise you that I have not seen into the future on this one." She laid her hands on the table. "I overheard your conversation about teaching styles."

"And…?" Draco looked up at the Swede.

"My bet - if you accept - is to befriend one student." She flipped her hair "Even if it's one of your own House."

"I will not participate in this silly affair." Snape snapped.

"Of course not. That would completely interfere with his reputation." Draco grinned.

"I'll go in on the bet." Hermione piped up. "Terms to be named later."

Severus glanced at his former student in interest. "Choose the student."

Ingrid smiled. "One of your own. Right there." She pointed to Ellen. "Make her trust you." She walked away before Snape could object, back to her place beside Dumbledore.

---

"Why did the blonde just point at me?" Ellen asked warily. 

"No clue. Don't even know the family," Ian said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"She's _Swedish_, that's why." Carla laughed. "You can't memorize EVERY family in the world."

"I can certainly try," Ian retorted. "That's my goal, then! By Seventh year, I will know every major wizarding family in the world."

---

Ingrid leaned over to Dumbledore, whispering, "Mission accomplished. Let's hope this works."

---

****

September 2nd 

First Years DADA

"This class is dangerous, just as the Dark Arts are. You may be hurt; you may see things you never thought possible. But you will learn, and this is _important_. This class isn't just learning how to defend yourself - it is a warning. If you think that the defense is hard, then I suggest you try your hand at the actual Dark Arts. I assure you, they're much more complicated.

"I will not kid you here. Your first year will be a healthy mix of what you should already know, and what you need to know to stay safe. Eventually, you will learn more and become more advanced. It is my hope that you take this class seriously.

"The Dark Arts are enthralling, which is probably why so many of us have fallen victim to their temptation. They take your soul and you have no recourse of action but to follow them once you get in too deep. There is virtually no way out, and it isn't very pretty to look yourself in the mirror, knowing what you have done."

Draco looked out at his students. They seemed to be at just the right mix of fear and interest that Snape couldn't achieve…except with someone like Hermione, who fed off of that sort of challenge.In fact he was seeing it right now in the eyes of a few of the Slytherins, an "I'll-prove-you-wrong-the-Dark-Arts-can't-be-_that_-bad" look. People would never change. He decided to move on just a little longer with the lecture, deciding that they would begin a little of the practical bit next time.

"We have defeated Voldemort, without question. But that doesn't mean we have defeated evil. In retrospect, we will never defeat evil; it is simply needed so that we can decide what is good. What we can do, however, is keep it from overpowering us, and that, my students, is the true meaning behind Defense Against the Dark Arts. Open your books to page 26 there you will find a picture of past Dark Lords…"

****

Muggle Studies-2rd Years

"This class could become the easiest class you ever take. To excel, all that is necessary is to think without your wands. Think without the magic you possess. What would you do when faced with a dilemma? I think you will find it interesting. First, we'll talk about the thoroughly modern Muggle, their technology, and then in the second half of the year we'll start with an overview of Muggle History. I'll try to make it more interesting than the Goblin Wars that Professor Binns drones on about. Muggles have a very sordid history." Hermione put on her best teacher voice. The students were not very rapt at her attention. She toyed with the idea of setting off something from Weasley twins store, but decided she didn't have the time.

"A Muggle, as you know, is someone without our specific magical gift. Occasionally, they do learn magic, but they never come in contact with our world. Moreover, they typically deny the idea of magic, while still wanting to believe. There are many movies and stories that believe in fairy tales and magic…"

****

Divination 4th Years

"I want you to throw away everything you were taught about Divination. It is not something you can learn from a book, and you will be sorely disappointed in this class if you think you can just think up new ways to kill yourself and receive a good score. I understand that not everybody will have a feeling for this magic. Therefore, you will be scored on memorization and not on results, those who I think have a talent, I will speak with in private to discuss other assignments."

Ingrid focused herself for a second and saw two distinct reactions to her speech. One, all the boys in the class were looking at her as if she were one step away from becoming a veela. The other reaction was from the girls, who were relieved that she wouldn't be asking for results.

"Now, to begin this year, I'll be instructing on the Tarot." She opened a cabinet. "These are for you… a gift to set us on the right foot. And highly useful in the art of Divination, not to mention they make for a right game of cards. "

****

Potions 6th Years

Severus entered the room with a quick step. "Alright then, welcome to another year, let's get to work. Today you will be preparing ingredients for the Volvallego Potion, which is meant to help clear the mind of troubles. If it is of sufficient placidness, you will receive a good score. You will find instructions on your desk."

****

October 20th 

"Ellen, may I see you after class?" Snape said in his normal fashion. Hermione had reminded him of the bet early in the morning, and he did want to know what her terms were.

Ellen looked terrified for a moment. "Of course, Professor" _Did I do something wrong already? I'm in his house; he's been favorable to us before!_

The rest of the class was excused, and Ian and Carla walked by giving her a quick, semi-comforting glance.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

Her sly Professor looked up. "I wanted to congratulate you. You were the only one to brew today's assignment correctly."

"Oh…Thank you. Is…is that all?"

"And…I hope you can continue to show up to the others in the class. It's refreshing to see one person with a slight talent. I must warn you, do not waste whatever talent you have."

"Don't worry, Professor, I plan on being the best." She began to turn, but smiled instead, "And Potions is where I'll clearly be top." She left the classroom, a little puzzled and perplexed.

Snape closed his eyes as she left. She was starting to remind him of himself, without the already memorized knowledge of curses. And in other ways of a certain other student he once had, with that fiery determination.

__

Dear Harry,

I'm sure that if you don't read this, someone will. I hope you are doing better, my friend. I know you have your hands full with staying alive and awake, so I'll keep this brief.

I love teaching. There are a lot of students now that are like us, back when we were in school. Many of them have broken up into their own little cliques. Thankfully, there are no Weasley Twin wannabe's, otherwise I'd go completely nuts. Working with the teachers that only ceased to teach me a few years ago is awkward, but even more so is the odd relationship I'm keeping with Draco. You probably haven't heard, but he's the DADA teacher, and a fairly decent one at that. We have a lot in common now for what we have done…we all have our burdens to bear. His reason is a lot worthier.

There are so few students this year. Far less than usual, in fact, the least amount in over a hundred years. I even looked it up in Hogwarts: A History (Yes, I still memorize the book monthly). It's troubling, but there is something different in the type of students we have welcomed this year. Even the Slytherins are more…not evil?

The new Divination teacher is a very interesting girl. Swedish, and even trained at a proper Divination School. The Tower school of Tea Leaves or something like that. You'd like her. She's not blasting "You will die" at the end of every class.

Oh, Harry, I do wish you'd hurry up and deal with your demons. I promise, I'll do the same. The world is better because of what we did, right? I wish I could tell myself that, but it doesn't work for me.

Hermione

Next time on Miserere: Where does the time fly? Halloween Feast, and the buildup of trust. Hermione receives a few letters and a mishap of the Tarot…(Time period Halloween Feast-New Years)

**To Starlight: it's been 6 years since Hermione's graduation, putting this roughly at 2004 (greatly testing my psychic powers) this is eventually a SS/HG romance. I have plans for Draco….**

I base the banter of the teachers, on listening to my own teachers talk. I love being very close to my teachers, they let me find out about all sorts of stuff. Plus the fact that I'm going to be a summer school teachers aide gives me a head-up on all the weird conversations, the teachers seem to trust me, for some strange reason.

Ingrids looks are completely based on a friend in Choir, who just happens to be from Iceland. I said, close enough, and that she looked perfect.


	3. Tis the Season

A/N HP don't belong to me. Damn, I didn't think it up.

Thanks to my beta Emily, who worked on this even though she had her Prom last weekend. 

More thanks to the ladies at WIKTT, they are a lot of fun just to listen too.

Under the full moon light we dance,  
Spirits dance, we dance  
Joining souls rejoice

~Libeana, A Circle is Cast

****

Tis the Season

It was the principal of the thing - or so Ellen had insisted - that the group attend the Halloween Feast masked. The others had never experienced a proper and scary Halloween. Apparently magic meant not having a masquerade. 

The trio worked diligently on creating just the right effects and when they finished, they all conceded that Ellen's was by far the scariest. A swirling design of blood red and pitch black falling into two deep disturbing eyes, she had worked forever on the charms. Ian and Carla's costumes, while much simpler, were nevertheless certain to strike fear into the students' hearts when the three Slytherin first-years entered the Halloween Feast. 

The entire school looked forward to the holiday feasts. They were a short, pleasant time when the atmosphere of Hogwarts became more relaxed and jovial, and the guard between students and teachers loosened. The only rule the students had to follow around these times was to have fun. 

However, there were always a few "party-poopers", as Sprout had so eloquently described them.

This year the party poopers were Professors Malfoy and Snape.

Severus being a low point at the feast was usually expected, but in the past few months he had appeared to stay longer at suppers without intelligible reason, and there was hope among some of the teachers that he might even crack a non-sarcastic joke at some point. They had no luck at it though, despite all of the little improvements.

Draco, however, had remained sullen and downwards, occasionally setting himself upwards and trying to display some of his old personality. But it was inconsistent and he never really seemed to put much effort into the façade.

It was unnerving for Ellen and the rest of her little group to watch the head of Slytherin house and their Dark Arts teacher moping around like angst-ridden teenagers after a bad date. This felt particularly strange for Ellen, having to watch her favorite professors, especially Snape, who she had studied a little bit with at night on Wednesdays, be so melancholy. She had heard that she was the very first person who Snape had let stay with him after classes without being in trouble.

Ellen was a very proud person-everything she had done she did for herself. Staying and talking with Snape had made her someone to be reckoned with among the other first years. It was quite nice, walking down the hallways and having students in all years look at her with puzzled expressions. Somehow, having a seventh year watch her made her feel immensely powerful. She liked the feeling. It wrapped around her heart and refused to take leave.

Ellen watched Snape and Malfoy with particular interest through the eyes of her enchanted mask. They looked up at her at different times, each paling and turning back to their previous conversation.

"That is a very interesting mask that Ellen has there, eh, Severus?" Hermione asked.

"I believe it is rather… frightening… to some people." Snape responded, half-civilly. 

If she had been any younger, Hermione would have rolled her eyes, but she kept her composure instead. "Severus, if you were any more pale you'd be transparent." She looked at him with the typical Gryffindor concern. "Are you alright?"

Draco suddenly interrupted. "It's a very frightening mask to former Death Eaters. It's a face that Voldemort used before to scare the daylights out of his followers and opposition… I'm curious as to why Albus hasn't said anything about it yet."

"Because if we let our fear get in our way we will never move away from it." Dumbledore strolled over. Hermione sat up straighter when he spoke, an unconscious habit still held over from school. She noticed that Draco had the same response.

"Of course," Snape looked the headmaster straight in the eyes. "But is it wise to let a first year wear something that powerful?"

"It is only powerful in the wrong hands. I should hope that a first year wouldn't know the power behind the eyes of that mask."

"But there's something about her, Hermione, that doesn't ring right."

__

Did Severus just call me Hermione? "With you, Severus, nothing rings right unless it's found within ingredients."

"Miss Granger…" Severus looked up at Albus, who smiled with a twinkle in his eye. 

"She has the same intelligence you did at that age."

"Then I congratulate her. It's not an easy thing to handle." 

__

Ahh, it was a fluke, of course he'd never call be by my first name. 

The music, ever present during their conversation, became louder, providing an escape. Draco stood up with a look that wasn't present only a minute ago. "The ancient Celts used Samhain as a night where the laws were meant to be broken…" He smiled a devious little smile. "Hermione, care to dance?"

With a bemused expression, the brunette laughed. "Well, in the spirit of breaking rules and regulations…" she accepted an outstretched hand, not even caring that Severus gave Draco a very suspicious look.

--

The students' heads snapped around as they noticed Professor Malfoy leading a flustered and amused Professor Granger out to the dance floor. They danced, keeping a respectful distance from each other, not wanting some of the more inclined rumors to start circulating.

Refusing to be outdone, a few of the seventh year Gryffindors trotted out to the floor, testing their daring, and danced much closer than their teachers. 

"What are you doing Malfoy?" Hermione asked

"Dancing"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Obviously. Why, pray tell, are you dancing with me?"

"Because I don't think I'd make it through the Swede's defenses." He smiled one of his Slytherin smiles. "And to make amends."

"By making a public spectacle of yourself?"

"I was a right prat," Draco admitted. "I never really had friends. You had Harry and Ron, while I had the goon squad and my prejudices as my backup. Now I have nothing and…I want to change that." He turned her and Hermione now watched as Severus averted his eyes from his former students. "A step at a time."

"You are an idiot, you know that?. A purebred idiot."

"Born and raised by my…" he stammered, "my father."

The song ended and Draco removed his hands from Hermione's waist and shoulder, and they clapped as they walked back to the elevated table.

"What are you doing, Ellen, bucking up for Prefect already?" Carla asked, jabbing Ian in the ribs and making him cough up a piece of fruit.

"What do you mean?"

"You met with Professor Snape after class again!" Ian interjected, grabbing another piece of food.

"He wanted to thank me for volunteering to help Carla's brother. No offense, Carla but he's hopeless. Don't knock it; he gave our house 10 points. We could win this year thanks to me."

"Would be a great thing, I mean, Ravenclaw won last year." Ian swallowed his food as he spoke with great disdain.

Two fifth-year Hufflepuffs looked over, pointing at Ellen's mask. She turned to look at them and smiled just the tiniest of smiles as they gaped. One turned around in terror, and the other smiled right back with grating steel eyes. 

"Creepy," Ellen remarked, turning back to her friends at the Slytherin table. "Everyone looks at me funny, as if I grew a second head." 

The night continued on, the new dancing tradition firmly in place. Draco and Hermione gratefully avoided each other for the rest of the night, to remove any sort of suspicions. Draco even had managed to ask Ingrid to the floor, or rather, she had come and said, "I know, I'll dance." Which amused Hermione and surprisingly, Severus, to no end. The blondes went to dance, looking like a perfect couple.

"He looks happy," Hermione said, directing the comment towards Severus.

"He's not." He replied, his voice completely monotone.

"I know, but it's nice to think he might be."

Snape's response was to stand up. "I'm leaving. I have lessons to prepare." He glided past Hermione's chair, a stray hand brushing up against her side. 

_Damn, he's cold._ Hermione shuddered slightly.

November 3

The hallway between classes was usually busy but today it was lethargic in its pace, silent and hardly moving. A tall boy with harsh steel eyes walked calmly into his class.

****

"Hey, first-year."

"Yes?" Ellen faced the tall boy, who looked at her intently with those grating silver eyes.

"I'm Jeremiah." He ran his hand over his shaved head. "And that's all you need to know right now." He made a curious gesture with his left hand. "Once you know what that means, I'll find you." He quickly turned on his heel, leaving her dumbfounded.

"How odd," Ellen said as she finished walking to her classroom, filing this strange occurrence for later reference.

****

December 15 

Ellen and Carla's room had been done up ceiling to floor in drapery by Carla, all done in house colors. Pictures of family, Quidditch stars and Wizard singers filled the little empty spaces

"Leaving much?"

"Yeah, I'm just going home for Holidays," Carla responded to Ellen's badgering.

"Same here, I haven't seen Mother in ages…At least that's what it feels like," Ellen replied finally after a minute. "But I'm not sure she'll be happy to see me. For someone who married a wizard, she's…."

"Uptight? Anal?" Carla turned from fixing the curtains in their room. "Prejudiced?"

"Something like that, yes."

Carla grabbed a picture from her dresser, bringing it over for Ellen to see. It was of a rather dishy young man, smiling and picking up Carla, throwing her over his shoulder. Carla wasn't a beauty, but this man definitely was. "Look." She fell onto Ellen's bed. "My older brother Max, 19. He works in Transfiguration Research."

"He's _nice_!"

"No way! That's my brother you're talking about!" Carla sighed. "But he's _so _powerful. Research doesn't suit him very well. He could be, like, an Auror, but he's scared."

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"I know. Why do you think we're friends?"

"Why don't we go harass your brother? He's going to fail potions without my help."

****

Christmas Holidays

Hermione was working to finish grading the last papers she had assigned. She knew she had plenty of time to do them, but the urgency was just there today. She was reading a particularly horrid work that a fifth year had turned in when a slightly accented voice called to her. "Hermione, may I ask a favor?"

"What is it, Ingrid?" Hermione sighed, not looking up. "I'm grading."

Several older students and adults looked into the room. "I'm holding a lecture on the uses of Tarot." She glanced about nervously. "Will you be my test dummy?"

"_You_ are the psychic. You know the answer."

"I need someone who doesn't buy into the whole 'tea leaves' thing."

Hermione looked up and gave her a hard stare. "Fine," She conceded, an exasperated 'you-owe-me' look flashing across her face.

Ingrid quickly ushered her into the new Divination classroom and sat Hermione down at the table. "Cut the deck." Hermione obliged.

Closing her eyes, Ingrid set up a very simple layout. "Your main trouble in life is behind you, but it's after-effects are preventing you from living fully. The first thing you must do is forgive yourself for something you had to do…"

_Uh-huh…easy for you… _

"You have someone special coming your way. One you already know, but one you wouldn't expect."

_Let's see, Ron's getting married, Harry's hardly awake… Malfoy? Why the hell am I taking this seriously? Because, Hermione, she makes more sense. No, they are just general claims._

Ingrid's eyes opened and they had a very frosty look to them. "Finally, there is something powerful coming that you and others must stop. Otherwise, all you have done has been for nothing." Her eyes unglazed and her voice sounded urgent. "Did I just say something? Quickly! Someone write it down!"

_Maybe, just maybe, this Swede has a real power._

Hermione, pushing away the whole nonsense of earlier, finally sat down to write some letters. Picking up her quill she put ink to parchment.

__

Ron,

Just have the wedding at one of schools! Dumbledore would go along with it, I'm sure. Just get married already. I already have to wait five more years to get a Weasley to teach, I don't want to wait more than I have to for one of yours.

Hermione

--

The New Year came and went, as it tends to do. Hermione found herself finishing grading papers as the clock struck 11:30. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in." The unholy and disruptive trio of Tea Leaf, Blondie, and Grumpy appeared at her door. The blondes appeared to be thoroughly smashed and enjoying themselves. "Do you have anything better to do than get drunk?"

"They don't," Severus had replied. "I do. Minerva asked me to invite you to her little party. I got sidetracked by these two."

"I'll go. Take me with you Severus. Please." Hermione sighed, "I have no interest in spending the New Year alone already."

If she had been looking at Snape, she would have noticed a slight jump in his features, as he looked her over with his own slightly hazy eyesight after not enjoying a few drinks with Malfoy and the Swede. She wasn't unattractive, by any means, but not really beautiful. She had grown into her hair, he figured, and the body she now possessed…

He shook away the thoughts that leaked into his brain. Not proper, not right, and not the musings of a sane man.

The party had more alcohol, stuff that made Muggle beer cry itself to sleep, and Hermione made herself more than just a little tipsy in just a few minutes. Suddenly she heard a countdown begin, and she remembered a little custom her mother joked about.

At the count of one, she grabbed the nearest person and kissed him. To her surprise, the returning kiss was quick and warm, and she pulled away as quickly as her alcohol-muddled brain would let her. She looked up and realized she had kissed Professor Grumpy himself. She burst out in giggles and apologized as she stumbled away.

She never saw Severus' secret smile.

****

Next time on Miserere: The Scholar. Hermione decides to approach the Potions Master. And just what good is a drunk Divination teacher?

Oh and to whoever said that Ingrid knows something about Ellen…Of course she does. She's got her tea leaves. Our little Swede should be a Slytherin at times.

Speaking of Slytherin, Ellen is a fun girl to write for. She gets even better later on. Seriously, I have a full page of notes on her little storyline.

And please review, it's simple and easy, and notes beget notes. I usually try to review something of whoever gives me notes.


	4. The Scholar

__

Disclaimer: Will take HP off of JK's hands if she's so busy she can't put out the next book.

I apologize for the wait this time. Both my Beta and I are graduating from two different high schools, within a few days of each other, and time is a little tense right now. I've also had several papers and an original story for creative writing class that demanded far more attention. I had to write with a slightly different seductive anti-hero.

This is the edited version of Miserere: The Scholar.

And onwards to the story.

__

"And gladly would he learn and gladly teach."

Chaucer

****

The Scholar

"I can't believe I did that!" Hermione giggled nonstop with a silliness completely uncharacteristic of her usual no-nonsense scholarly persona. Whether it was the hazy feeling that the alcohol conveyed, or the fact that she had retreated to the staff room with the rest of the under-30 crowd, no one could tell. She looked up to see Malfoy's face contort itself to keep from laughing and…

…and Ingrid's calm and knowing face. _Don't tell me she knew. Don't tell me she knew, that damned physic-Cleo-wannabe…_She took another look at her face and groaned inwardly. _She knew!_

"Am I really that transparent?" Ingrid asked, raising an amused eyebrow when she caught Hermione studying her. 

"Fortunetellers..." Hermione huffed. "Why do I put any stock in your musings?"

"Because I'm going to say that in less than two hours, you are going to be head- first in the loo." Ingrid smirked.

"It doesn't take a fortuneteller to know that. I believe I'll be doing the same very soon," Draco burst jovially, finally releasing his pent-up laughter. "You," he pointed at the Swede, "didn't drink."

"I tend to babble," She answered smoothly, "And a babbling divinator sounds more like death in a handbasket, than a probable truth."

"So _that's_ it!" Hermione cried. "Trelawney was drunk!" Another round of raucous laughter ensued from the former enemies.

--

"SLYTHERIN? My daughter in Slytherin?! I always _knew_ that Sorting Hat was a bit off, only being used once a year… but honestly!" Ellen's father knelt down and grabbed her wrists, shaking them with each word. "My brave, smart, loyal daughter.. off with those snakes!" 

"Daddy, it's not like I _asked_ to be placed there!" Ellen snapped while trying vainly to slip out of his grasp. "I must be there for a reason."

"I can't believe this, honey. You'd make a better Ravenclaw."

"I'm a little more exciting than a bookworm," She replied, sounding skeptical.

Her father's library was filled with more books than she remembered. Many of them were Wizarding manuscripts, with eye-popping elegant script scrawled across the covers. "In fact, father, I'm a lot more interesting than some Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff." 

Her voice was full of ice as her wrists slipped from her father's hands.

****

---Term Resumes—

A first year should not have been so lucky as to gain a few followers, but this was Slytherin house and power over others was not only a birthright, but expected. Ian and Carla had turned into Ellen's devoted followers. It tried her patience most of the time, but she found that it helped when it came to tutoring Carla's inept brother through potions. Surprisingly, through that one, selfless act, she had managed to gain the trust of a few Gryffindors. Bradley had the intelligence, she mused. He just let his blinding bravery and outward nobility stand in the way of academic excellence.

With Carla, however, it was very easy to discern why she had been sorted to Slytherin. She had a serious demeanor when it came to DADA and one could practically see her mind racing at the possibilities as she soaked up the class like a sponge. Of course, most of the Slytherins' minds shot off like rockets in that class. The innate power of even Defense was astounding to Ellen herself.

She studied, constantly. It was the same with every class - she studied just for the sake of grasping the basic roots of the subject, and once she understood it completely, everything else just fell into place. 

"There has to be more to this," she commented one evening while reading her Charms book. 

"Maybe Carla had a point. Maybe I _should_ go for Prefect later on." She rubbed her eyes, closing her book. "If I had a broom I could let off some extra energy." However, Carla wasn't back yet. "I guess I'll go out for a run."

_Freedom is the wind at my back, pushing me forwards._

She didn't even bothering pulling her soft brown curls into a ponytail; instead, she burst out of the House doors and just started to run. It never even occurred to her that no one else ran like she did, almost as if she was floating gracefully above the ground. She only knew she was fast.

That was probably the trouble back at her old school. She was too fast and others noticed the way she ran. Too good of form for her age, she looked professional. Magic must have been the reason everyone refused to race with her.

Boy, she mused, it's a little cold for a run.

Her unconscious running led her to Snape's office. She felt comfortable around the surly professor now. Ellen was not exactly hated in her class, merely just a little out of place. She praised herself for being sorted into Slytherin, where she was more accepted for some of her academic prowess when it benefited others. Her talent was appreciated when others watched. She was proud to be a Slytherin, because she watched just as everyone else did. Looking for a weakness to exploit, strength to conquer.

__

My father took it as an insult for me to be in Slytherin. 

She wasn't cold like the popular girl in 6th year, Janice Ravell, or seductive like Kent with his perfect eyes. She was just there, and this annoyed her.

She knocked on Snape's door. _Rap rap rap. _"Professor?" she called out in her sweetest voice. "It's Ellen."

The door opened silently, without a single creak. The Potions Master stood halfway, towering menacingly. "Yes?"

For an instant Ellen stood with nothing to say. 

"Yes?" Snape repeated, keeping the bet in mind.

In a very hushed, quiet voice, "My father hates me." Ellen looked up at him. "H-he d-d-doesn't like Slytherins all that much." Her voiced cracked a little. "H-he told me so."

"I very much doubt that, Miss Knightford. As I recall from some of the old school rosters, your father was a Hufflepuff. He'll stay loyal to you until the very end."

She nodded. "I suppose." Her small voice moved to a slightly more confident tone as she asked, "Are Hufflepuffs blind with their loyalties?"

"Only the truly small of mind." Snape answered. "You have an assignment due tomorrow. I suggest you finish it."

"Of course, Professor. Thank you." 

Severus was always amazed by the way Ellen acted. She never shook in his presence like other students, nor did she ever miss a question in Potions. She just refused to be intimidated. She was only eleven, yet she acted so much older.

It worried him, just a little. 

The year was passing with little interruption. Hermione was finally getting into the rhythm of being a teacher. Assignments, housepoints, grading (how the other teachers used assignments as a punishment was beyond her since it was inflicting punishment upon herself as well) and students, an endless cycle of detentions. She had received word that Vector was returning next year, and she wouldn't have as many classes to teach.

Which, of course, made her wanting more. She hadn't done much research in awhile and she was anxious to do _something_. Muggle Studies wasn't challenging to a muggle-born to teach. 

Her field of expertise had turned out to be Potions in her seventh year and there was a world of possibilities that she could do with that. Why, she could even go to the Masters program. But that would require three years of being an apprentice under a highly accredited Potions Master. O_h hell, I wouldn't even have to leave Hogwarts to do this, would I?_

She would have to apply to the program.

****

---April—

__

Dear Hermione,

Gabrielle absolutely loved the idea of having the wedding at one of the schools. She even conceded that Hogwarts would be a better choice (I don't think she liked Madame Maxine too much). I'll be by in a few days to ask the Headmaster myself. I guess there's not really much to say, other than I stopped by Harry's…and, well, even the nurse is looking a bit pants. I'll say more when I visit.

Ron

Well, if this wasn't going to disrupt her teaching rhythm, nothing would.

Time passed slowly the next few weeks. The teaching cycle continued until Hermione saw the telltale sign of a Weasley arrival. Something so incredibly loud that it had to come from Ron. Hermione heard it all the way in her 6th year Arithmancy class until she realized that the loud sound was traveling the stairs at a rapid pace, a woman's soft giggle behind the footsteps. She paused in her lesson for a brief second, knowing the inevitable was about to happen.

The door burst open with a large bang.

"Hermione!"

Hermione did her best to look unimpressed. "Class, Ronald Weasley and his fiancee, Gabrielle LeNoir." Gabrielle was gorgeous to behold. Light brown, wispy hair and very serious jade eyes. 

"The one and only."

Half the class stared at the abso-bloody-lutely famous Auror joking with the teacher, and the other half stared at the very pretty lady holding his hand. Ron looked, well, he looked a lot like he did as a teenager. Tall and redheaded as the sun at noon, just longer and curlier, past his ears. Hermione had noticed that that particular hairstyle was popular for their age. She took a quick look around the room and gave a hearty sigh. "Alright, class dismissed. Go swotting or something." She waved her hand as her class vacated.

"Hermione! It iz grand to zee you again!" Gabrielle ran to her fellow witch's side and gave her a hug, turning around so that Hermione faced the wall instead of Ron.

"Little impromptu of you, Gabi, isn't it?" she smiled as 'Gabi' motioned to Ron. 

"I am sorry, I'm in a good mood." The girls released each other. "Albus relented to uz using zee Great Hall already."

Hermione pretended to be shocked. "Brill! I'm so happy!"

"Hermione…" Ron started. "We have one more surprise for you."

She turned back around to face the doorway, eyes opening and bursting into cheers of joy. "Cor, you didn't."

At the doorway was a disheveled young man with a certain distinct scar, hardly standing on his own two feet.

"H-Harry..." Hermione stammered. "You're…awake…" She stumbled, walking forward. Ron nudged Harry farther into the room. "We're all together again."

Ron grinned. "All we need now is Malfoy harassing us and us breaking into Snape's office."

"I wouldn't recommend breaking into our dear Professor Grumpy's office, but I can annoy you if you wish." Draco silkily moved into the room. 

"Malfoy," Ron said, with just a touch of civility

"Weasley." Draco nodded his head. "Potter."

"Draco," Harry replied, with a little more class, looking his former adversary in the face. "Nice to see you again."

"Pleasure." They shook each other's hand in a peculiar sign of respect, causing a reaction on Ron's face of innate shock.

Hermione's face brightened. "Ron, you look more amazed than I did when Albus told me I was to teach second years."

"That early?"

"He changed the curriculum slightly. He thought it needed to be taught earlier." She smacked her head. "What a dim I am. Draco, this is Ron's fiancée, Gabrielle LeNoir."

"Charmed," Draco replied, bowing slightly, displaying the old Malfoy manners. "Ron, you are one lucky bloke. You actually managed to find a non-redhead. Maybe you'll break the Weasley tradition."

Ron looked aback, and then laughed loudly, breaking apart everything that had happened in the past. Hermione smiled broadly. "Why don't we go out to dinner tonight, Draco? Grab the Swede, I'm sure she'd love to meet everyone."

"If she doesn't already know to come." Draco rolled his eyes and then noticed Harry and Ron's confused looks. "The new Divination teacher."

"I see," Ron responded," I'd love to chat more butAlbus asked to meet with us again today."

"Alright, you two." She pointed to Ron and Gabi. "Go meet with Albus. I have to talk with Severus." She had a very nervous look on her face. "Trying to make that immovable object agree to accept me as an apprentice is a task far worse than a 15 page application. I'll meet up with you guys afterwards."

The five parted quickly, with more hugs and handshakes.

--

"Severus." Hermione pounded on the door. "Severus!"

_Silence. Annoyance._

"Severus Snape, you said you would talk to me!" She called. She gave it a final knock and stealthily moved her foot forward when the door finally cracked open.

"I was working," Severus said quietly, regarding the younger Professor with amusement. "What is it you wanted?"

Hermione took a deep breath. _I can do this; he's not the big scary Professor anymore. _She showed him an acceptance letter. "I'd like to be a Potions Master."

"So?"

"I need to be an apprentice first, for a three…"

The ravenous form huddled over a scroll. "I know the program."

"Since I'm already here, I figured I could ask you to be my Potions Master." _Oh boy, that nearly came out wrong._

"No."

"Severus, please." She concentrated on choosing her words carefully. "I need a challenge, and this seems like one. You are the perfect choice to help."

"I do not need you again as a student. You are a Professor, act like it."

Hermione moved closer to the man she needed to convince. "The way I see it, I'm going to be terribly unhappy until you relent. I have nothing against being a student again, as well as a Professor. I need this."

Snape turned around to find the woman staring up at him intently. She would get what she wanted eventually, he realized, either with his permission or she'd go to Albus, and with an inward groan he said, "Can you? Can you become a student at night and teach your classes during the day? Can you make that sacrifice?"

"Severus, in my view of learning, that is not a sacrifice." Hermione leveled him with a stare. "You don't make sacrifices for things such as this. You allow things to happen."

"We will begin at the start of the next term. We can work out the details later." Severus motioned for her to leave.

"Certainly." She gave him a nod of her head, letting her hair fall closely to her face. "Thank you Severus."

__

This girl is going to be the death of me, he thought, running his fingers through his hair, mentally correcting girl to woman. He went back to his work, thinking about how the hell he was going to have a Professor as his student next term.

Hermione, however, left Severus's office and closed the door. As soon as she made it a little down the hall, she whispered gleefully, "I did it…" _Damn, I could have been a Slytherin._

Next time on **Miserere**: Oh just go to dinner already, and why are they all getting along? 

More A/N: To my dedicated noters:

PartlyFoxy: Oh trust me, I have far more interesting plans for Draco. Poor Draco…he really gets the short end of the stick in a few years.  
Emu: Hush you. Hush hush.  
Strega: Thank you. You don't know how much I enjoy your writing, and I'm elated that you even looked at mine.  
C Chai: Thank you for catching my mistakes. I really have to go back and edit the first chapter.

As always, big thanks to the ladies at WIKTT, my beta Emily, and my reviewers. Wouldn't you like to be mentioned too? Go ahead, write a review. 

If anyone else would like to be informed when I update, please leave a note with your email address, and I'll set my mail program to send you an email.


	5. Dinner Conversations

Disclaimer: Rowlings. Not Mine. I'm Nuri. Ingrid, Gabi, Jeremiah, Primrose, Ellen and the Slyths are mine.

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for enough good men to do nothing." - commonly attributed to Edmund Burke

Dinner Conversations

The under-thirty crowd escaped to Hogsmeade, to a small restaurant named Primrose. Each table was traced with flowers that grew as a patron watched them. Draco dragged Ingrid in a little later than when everyone else arrived. He had taken one look at the cheerful décor and rolled his eyes, "Oh you have got to be kidding me." 

Ingrid had taken the seat next to a soft-spoken Harry Potter, and his shaky smile. 

"Ingrid, the famous, Boy-Who-Lived-and Then-Almost-Nearly-Died, Harry Potter. Harry, meet Ingrid Olsson, Divination Professor," Draco announced, mockingly.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ingrid." Harry said, looking straight at her. The rest of the pleasantries followed smoothly and quickly, before Ingrid took the empty seat beside Harry.

"What did Albus say?" Hermione asked the blushing couple nonchalantly, hiding her face behind her menu.

Gabrielles' face brightened enormously, "He zaid he would gladly welcome me to the Hogwarts family!" 

More congratulations around from the table. Ron looked down to the table, investigating the flowers on the table. "He was more asking about our own plans. We're thinking about having the wedding sometime next year, so that hopefully everyone will be back from wherever they went," Ron moved his head upward, "I…we…will have our friends and family around us, even if we have to wait a year."

"Hopefully not a full year," Gabi interrupted, eyeing Ron protectively.

"Well that's true too," Ron laughed, "There's nothing more that I want than to be with Gabi forever. At this point, I think we all just need a little stability in our life."

The waiter came by, and they ordered. Pasta, as usual, was high on the list for Hermione. A healthy food, able to keep her filled for a long period of time. She never really ate much to begin with. Not out of any diet plan or pickiness, but the food just didn't interest her to eat. Here, however, she'd eat her fill, and enjoy it for once.

"Do they actually have a real cook?" Draco mentioned loudly, interrupting a conversation between Ingrid and Hermione. They gave him a very nasty look, a double threat in two pairs of eyes.

"I believe so. One of the few that do," Hermione casually rhymed before adding, "Many people enjoy making food without using magic, or even house elves, dear Malfoy."

"I don't understand why." Draco waved his hands, "It's easier this way. Faster."

"Is it satisfying?" Hermione quipped back, "There is nothing more potent than completing something by yourself, knowing you did it without the aid of a magical stick of wood..." 

"No wonder you teach Muggle Studies and Arithmancy. Who needs real magic there?" Draco grinned.

Hermione rolled her eyes suppressing a laugh, "There's magic in numbers. They always will add up, in the past, present, and future."

This was incredibly different than just a few years ago. Draco Malfoy laughing with her, not insulting her? Not throwing insults and curses at Harry? Not insulting the Weasley family? Rather amazing. Why did things have to change so quickly?  
Time really does change everything. 

Dinner at Hogwarts was always a splendid affair. Good food, good company, although tonight the conversation was leaning towards reasoning why there were three Professors missing from their table.

"Of course, you realize it must be about Ingrid. She must have seen something coming," Carla noted.

"Divination is a sham," Ian countered.

"It is not!" Carla yelled back.

"Oh quiet you two." Ellen said in a whisper, "It's likely nothing…actually, weren't some people talking about how Ron Weasley was on the school grounds." They nodded back to her, "They _are old friends_, honestly, don't you think Professor Granger would go to dinner or something."

The two sat for a second until Ian sighed, "Ellen, do you have to take the fun out of things?" 

"Well it's either that or Professor Snape chopped them up to make potions out of, and judging by what we were making today, I wouldn't put it past him."

Their Head of House had not seemed to be in a good mood that day, that was for sure. The students, even her fellow first years had picked up on that. She went for a visit afterwards, but was only met with silence at his door from him, however, she could hear the scratching of a quill on parchment pacing back and forth at a frantic pace. She had slipped a note underneath the door, bearing her name, and only the words _"Whatever it is, it can't be that bad." _

It was something she just couldn't explain. She looked up at him as Ian and Carla continued to fight over what exactly the three teachers were doing.

Professor Snape found his food unappetizing, but apparently interesting. His head turned downwards, avoiding the conversations about the appearance of the conquering hero Harry Potter that the rest of the staff pattered on about. Having never been fond of the boy, but not wanting to disrupt, he kept his comments mostly to himself.

After all, Auror Potter had saved the entire European Wizard community, and so deserved a little respect. Harry's little escapade nearly cost his own life, having spent nearly the past year cooped up, flitting in and out of a dire state of consciousness.

And for all that trouble, his scar was there.

For that matter, so was Severus' own Dark Mark. Despite the complete death of Voldemort, each of the surviving former death eaters' marks remained. A constant and occasionally painful reminder of what he used to be, and always capable of doing. He looked up quickly to see his little charge, Ellen, looking at him. He did not want to see her today, even if it meant a slight drop in her trust. He had seven years to win this dare, and he didn't have to complete in her first year.

There was work to be done. Always there is work to be done. After classes were over, Professor Granger had made her way into his office and sweet-talked him into taking her as his pupil.

She obviously had no idea what she was getting into. The Potions Masters program was highly regarded as the toughest, longest and most rigorous program available. Most others were either practical or purely relied on memorization. Potions required the use of a persons mind. The innate power in the combination of ingredients could never be forgotten. Each different way of preparing the components was analyzed, for each changed its potency. The order of preparation, how you stirred, how quickly you added each individual item.

Then, there was the power play. Why she had come to him wasn't a mystery. Even Snape could admit he was the closest possibility for training purposes. And true, when she had come to teach, she had shed her past at the school. Hermione never treated him as though she was still a student, from the very first moment she had entered the grounds.

Now she would have to, yet again. She willingly gave up the power she had as a Professor, and laid it in his hands.

"Severus, the food may be well-prepared," Minerva snapped in his face, "but it is hardly a masterpiece to look at."

"It is however, far more interesting than whatever you were droning on about." 

Minerva, used to such short answers from the Potions Master, turned her back to him, shaking her head, muttering about how politeness could get you anywhere.

She did not notice that Severus had slipped out of his seat and was currently walking out of the Great Hall. In fact, the only person who had seen him leave was Ellen, her eyes following his dark figure out the door. Excusing herself, she left the Slytherin table, and walked out in the same fashion. Once outside, she set off at full speed to speak with her Professor.

At the Hufflepuff table, the steel-eyed fourth year Jeremiah spoke quietly among his peers. He carefully eyed the first year Knightford leaving the Great Hall, and after a cursory glance at the Professors table, connected the dots. Frowning slightly, he made a note in his head, all the while chatting amicably about the Transfiguration homework that his housemates where having trouble writing.

If that little chit of a girl decided to follow in better footsteps, plans would be ruined. Why Professor Snape had decided to take an interest in the eleven-year-old, he couldn't grasp. As far as Jeremiah knew, he had no Lolita tendencies, and he never took any real interest in a student other than insulting them…his mind reeled over such a subject. What was his motive, was there something he was hiding? If things were going to succeed, he had to break down the relationship between the Professor and Ellen. 

_Things may not be so simple after all. _

Authors Notes: I'm extremely sorry that this part is even later than the last. I swear, I gave it to my beta weeks ago. She still hasn't returned it. I gave it to someone else, who wrote all over it, and then I disregarded half his statements. But still, let us give props to Emily, who tried (and I don't blame her…too much) but especially to Mike, who I believe is the very first (public, and not by marriage) male ss/hg beta reader. He has this undying love of cliches, but I love him anyways.

Primrose is the restaurant I used in an entirely different story that starred an entirely different anti-hero. It served much the same purpose: give the characters a bonding place.

There is an obvious nod to Resmiranda's "Like Shadows on a Winter Sky" in the conversation. I trust people can find it. 

And just so you know, the next part "Not Designed to Fade" is already written, nearly done with my proofing and will be posted sometime next week, giving me some time to write the part that goes after it. 

****

Next time on Miserere: FLASHBACK. "We walked alone, together, but alone", Mike tries to re-write Snape, and Ingrid starts something actually useful.


	6. Not Designed to Fade

You have been ordered to guard the President's life and to shoot anyone who attempts to get closer than 15 feet to him. While you are guarding him at a public occasion, a little, 6 year old girl runs at the President and gets too close. What is the first thing you feel after shooting her?   
**-from an alleged CIA psychological evaluation**

Not Designed to Fade

"Professor Snape!" 

The Scottish weather had taken its natural course and rain fell over the Hogwarts grounds. "Professor Snape," Ellen continued to yell, running to catch up with him, "You could at least acknowledge my presence."

            The dark figure in front of her stopped and a scowl formed on his barely visible face, "Miss Knightford, do you believe that it is entirely possible that I am in no mood to accompany an eleven-year old?"

            She moved closer to her Potions Professor and with the logic only an eleven-year-old can muster she said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

            "No," he said, "Miss Knightford, I trust that you realize that my problems are not precisely privy to a first year?" Staring hard at the little girl steeled eyes he gave into a lie, " If you must know, I'm trying to formulate plans to take on an apprentice next term."

             This set Ellens Slytherin senses a-tingling, "Who?" Her eyes questioned more than her words.

            "For your information, she happens to be Professor Granger. I understand that you will have her next year for Muggle Studies," he began to turn away from the young girl, "I would advise going back to your table, Miss Knightford, before your robes become unsuitable for wear."

            Ellen shifted her weight from one leg to the other and back again. Her lips suddenly became dry, comforted by the rain spirals.

            "Yes, Professor," she said before parting, "I hope you work out any other troubles you may have."

            Not for the first time, Severus piled his head into his hands, trying to remember why an articulate eleven-year-old was taking such a vested interest in his life. 

           By early morning, the rain turned into a downpour as Hermione and Ingrid made their way back towards their rooms. The ground was muddy and the blasted Divination teacher had worn boots, while Hermione had left that evening in low heels.

            "Ingrid," Hermione started, "Next time you have the impression that it will rain, inform me. I simply dislike dirt dislodging spells at three in the morning."

            Ingrid laughed a silver peal, "It's much more fun this way though," she took a glance above her, "It's a lovely little storm, I say though. More than I expected, otherwise, I would have brought an umbrella."

            "Well, I'm glad to know you aren't perfect," Hermione grumbled to herself. 

            Ingrid reached the doorway to the Ravenclaw House door, and gave a farewell, "Good night Hermione, and do try to get some sleep," before uttering the password to the teachers wing. 

            The way Ingrid, over the past year, had made little comments that insinuated more than what she meant to say unnerved Hermione. The fact that she now sat, the rain having slowed to a drip, and she, unable to sleep.

            Her eyes had taken on a haunted look, sleepless after a full night of activity. But excitement had not kept her up.

            It was seeing Harry again.

            She thought she could bury the past. She thought she could outthink the trauma when it arose in her mind, each month since that night nearly two years ago. But month after month, and week after week, the memories rose, a trick candle in the night.

            And tonight they rose like the roman candles.

            _"Hermione, ready?"___

_            "This is still foolish, Harry," Hermione looked over at her companion, "You all but left Ron back there."_

_            "He has the training to survive," Harry returned, "He'll be fine. There's no one left there. I need you here."_

It's not like he couldn't go on without me. I was the foolish one there. I wasn't ready, even though I said yes.

            _"I need someone who's meticulous with their spells, Hermione," Harry explained, "Ron…is a good Auror, but hardly has the mind you do."_

_            The magical wasteland laid before them now, and in the distance, the cry of who-knows-what sounded. Hermione hardly noticed them. She knew what and whom she had to face here. She wouldn't let fear get in her way now._

            Too late.

            Far too late to show fear.

_            Hermione tripped over a random rock, grabbing onto Harry for support. Instantly, a flash of light surrounds them. Blinding, falling, and solid ground._

_            "Portkey," Harry murmured, "Guess even Voldemort resorts to the same old tricks." _

            Of course, how could I be so stupid? I should have been watching out for strange objects. I could have noticed, if I wasn't so busy being nervous. Things weren't simple back there. And now the area was even more blear. Grey for miles and miles upon end, an empty nothingness that blended into the darkened sky.

            Harry and Ron keep telling me that I'm not to blame for what happened. No, smart Hermione, wonderful, best friend Hermione could never do anything that terrible. No, the aurors would never believe me. I've lived my life to avoid doing this, ever, to anyone.

            _Then, the screaming began. These were not the cries of mysterious creatures, but the painful agonies of full-grown men, thrown to the floor by the force of surrealist needles poured into every pore of their skin. Dozens of them, each a visual reminder of why Harry and Hermione were here. From the sky, lightening pinched the sky into a cracked vase every so often, but no rain fell. Maybe if rain had fallen, a sense of familiarity would have fallen over the duo._

_            Instead tension rained down on them, because now the unmistakable frames of Voldemort and his followers were close enough that Hermione could tell that the numbers had already been depleted._

_            Harry burst into action, curses flailing. Auror training or not, this was the man that killed his parents. And now he was the full-grown man, trained to…kill._

I stood by and did nothing, this is his battle, I remember thinking. I took refuge behind Harry,with an aiming spell on my tongue, training my sight on the Dark Lord. All according to plan, so far. Or whatever plans we had made up twenty minutes ago. Harry would get the glory, and I'd get the knowledge that I did something great, and some fame on the side. Nothing to spectacular, after all, I'm not that sort of person who seeks prestige. Just a place to hang my hat, maybe a picture in the Daily Prophet, a little blurb underneath. Something to show my parents.

            _Voldemort__ handed us a new trick though. From his farthest reaches, the terrified figures of Muggles danced in his grip. Everytime a curse was thrown, it would almost hit one of the defenseless humans._

Harry looked to me. While he was faster with his reflexes, I was better with my timing. I told him earlier that I would never deliver an unforgivable…but we had figured out several other curses.

            _"Aeris combibo" flick and swish…_

_            As Hermione uttered the curse, Harry stepped backwards, his cheeks slightly lacerated, dropping little bits of blood. Bumping back into Hermione, he broke her concentration. The curse changed in direction, and Hermione watched in horror as it hit the Muggle instead of Voldemort._

I fell and gaped as the poor man turned blue, all the oxygen being forced out of his body. A few minutes later, he collapsed in a heap. I sat in shock as Harry continued A rally of curses and counter-curses from his wand. He didn't escape them all. I must have been knocked out soon afterwards, for the next thing, Harry is unconscious, Voldemort is incinerated and thoroughly dead, and I'm shaking, trying to carry Harry back to someone who can help.

            _She found Ron soon after, who had recovered enough to help Hermione with their friend. He noticed immediately the numbness in her eyes. He said no words._

_            Together they walked to safety. Together, linked, but they walked alone._

_God oh God oh God oh God whathaveIdonewhathaveIdonewhathaveIdone…God oh God_

A year and a half later, Hermione sat outside the Gryffindor House. She looked up at the sky and figured it was time that she would normally be waking. Walking back inside, she carried her memories with her. 

_Everything dark and bleak  
There is no turning back now  
Please show me mercy…_

Breakfast was easy. She just didn't show up. This, in itself wasn't common, but not unusual occurrence. Instead, she took a walk along the grounds before her first class of 6th year Arithmancy students.

Walking slowly, attempting to calm her mind, Hermione was alone. Her friends were here, but, in all, she was alone. Ron was a very happy boy right now, finding that special someone. And Harry, poor Harry, was just a distant as Hermione supposed she was. Except that he didn't try to hide it. _Why_, she thought, _do I try to hide it?_

_What happened while I was out?_

Gradually she became aware of another presence in her walk. In the shadows walked Severus Snape. Neither made any pretense to stop or catch up to each other, nevertheless, it happened. As they approached the Great Hall, they walked together in sorrowful silence. No students were about, and the strange pair went unnoticed, as they took solace in the troubles of their own. Hermione looked at the building, subconsciously turning inwards.

"I believe I will make an appearance at breakfast, Professor Snape." Hermione said graciously, without the smile normally on her face.

Snape nodded briefly, continuing on with his steps.

Teaching is a hectic job, especially towards the end of the year. Hermione, as a student, reveled in the joys of studying for her final exams. As a Professor, however, she began to realize exactly what it entailed; remembering every word spoken in every class, at every level.

Exhausting, that's what it was, and it was exactly what the conversation at breakfast was about. Hermione quietly asked what she should include on her exams, and was met with amusement from the veteran Professors.

"What, you haven't written them yet?" Minerva asked.

"Well, no I haven't," Hermione responded, "I wasn't sure what to include, and what I would exactly teach during the year."

"Surely, you have Arithmancy written, Vector did leave detailed pages and pages of notation," Minerva countered, "Assuming you didn't drift from them, you should be fine. Otherwise, it's just a method of figuring out how to best torture the students."

Hermione smiled weakly, leaning back into her seat until breakfast was over. She ate a little on the oatmeal she'd received. It was slightly bland, but a little cinnamon improved it greatly. Breakfast dragged on, and looking over at Draco, she saw his face. He appeared as though he had been drawn and quartered the night before, instead of at a dinner with his peers. In fact, only Ingrid had a smile on her face, cheerfully asking for the jam. Hermione only wished that she'd occasionally be unhappy…would that be so bad?

            Her classes went on as scheduled for the day, with no interruptions from friends. The voices of the past echoed in her mind as she drew the 'Hermione-the-Stern-Teacher' expression on her face. The classes, not really used to Professor Grangers' mood, sat up at attention, unable to act. Arithmancy was easily taken care off for exams, just as Minerva said it would be, so Hermione passed out review sheets. "This is a hard exam for the upper levels," she noted to the students, who gawked at how early she expected them to begin studying. 

            Muggle Studies, however, was an entirely different problem. Hermione detracted completely from the old plans immensely. Which meant entirely new exams. Which also meant one giant headache that night.

            "Well," she spoke to herself, "I could just give them essay tests or projects this year."

---

            "It's begun," Ingrid started, sitting down in a plush chair, "the first part of the cycle has started." She closed her eyes, waiting a response.

            Her companions chair moved, "Are you sure what we are doing is right Professor Olsson?" 

            "Unless someone helps them, I don't just fear the worse, Professor, I know that what comes if we don't…it would be dreadful." Ingrid's eyes were still closed, tightly, holding back an emotion pressing against the back of her skull. Her fingernails gripped the armrest of the huge red chair, leaving imprints.

            She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Then, Miss Ingrid," Ingrid opened her eyes to see Dumbledore's blue eyes in full twinkle," we continue on."

            **May 15th **

Students, with only a few exceptions, will do anything to avoid classes. Even if your class is about defending yourself again the big bad wizard who wants to blow you to pieces, the student rates the class at the same level as any horrific job, such as cleaning without a wand or destroying a good relationship. 

            Unless, of course, you were Ellen Knight ford, who was walking with her friends through the crowded corridors of Hogwarts, while reading a book on ancient defensive theories.

"Honestly, Ellen, why do you even bother studying for everything, you're tops!" Ian sneered in her direction, while walking towards the DADA classroom.

            "Silly Ian," Ellen closed her book, "because I want to make sure that nothing escaped my head while I slept.  
            Carla giggled, "Besides Ian, she might find the answers to life in there."

            "She's not in Divination…yet," Ian rolled his eyes and hustled in front of the girls, spying a few Gryffindor girls. Grabbing the door for Ellen and Carla, he smiled a gentleman's smile, "Ladies…" before slamming the door in the gaggle of Gryffindors' faces.

            "Childish --" Ellen began.

            "But it works." Carla finished, staring at the figure swooping down on Ian.

            Professor Malfoy knelt down and tapped Ian on the shoulder. Ian looked up, surprised and shocked as the former Slytherin spoke in his ear, "I'd suggest you'd do that when not in my presence, Mister Beck, otherwise, I would be forced to remove house points. And since Slytherin is currently in second in the standings, I'd work a little harder."

            "Yes Professor Malfoy," Ian shook a little and took his seat next to Carla.

            "Don't worry, Ian. I thought it was a great little way to annoy those girls," she gave a little smile.

            Ellen opened her book again, and waited for class to begin. Professor Malfoy had promised to share a bit over what the exams would be over today, and she had to know what to prepare. Exams were only a few weeks away, and she'd be damned if she didn't do well on them. _I owe that much to my father._

_Authors Notes: For the sake of the timeline. The past events in this chapter take place 4 years after leaving Hogwarts. Hermione would have been 22 or 23, which would also happen to be our current year. Nearly two years later (2004)_

_"Aeris Combibo" tends to mean "To suck the air" or something along those lines. The inspiration for that curse happens to come from an RPG I was helping to write. We were trying to come up with spells that killed indirectly. If you suck all the oxygen out of the person, it tends to kill them._

_I'd like to give very special thanks to my friends, who have to put up with me sighing over this story, and over the SS/HG ship in general._

_To Em and Mike, my fearless betareaders, the former completely understands my obsession with Snape and the latter fears for my sanity. Together they are a rather good team. And I want to thank whoever one day decided to make the CIA quote their .sig, I searched forever to find something apropos for this part. _


	7. The Honor System

_There are few things more dishonorable than misleading the young.**   
- **Thomas Sowell_

The Honor System/A Waking Dream

You could tell it was exams time by the amount of books lying on the floor of the Slytherin common room, all open to various pages. It was getting late in the evening and the number of students was increasing, each with questions to ask older students. It was a busy scene. In the midst of it all was a huddled group of first years crinkling their eyebrows over the Transfiguration text.

"I just wish I knew what we were doing," Ian whispered to Carla, "It's so aggravating, you know?

Ellen cut them off, "I'm trying to memorize the correspondences charts, do you mind?"

"Didn't you say that you were going over those with Professor Snape last month?" Carla looked up from instructions on how to change a comb into a toupee.

"Yeah, well," Ellen closed her book, "There was a change of plans." She looked over at her two friends, "You think that you can break an exterior…no, I was only an inconvenience. I mean, really, I'm a silly little first year who thought that the teachers actually cared." Ellen grabbed another book, "Anyone want to take a walk and study astronomy?"

Without a response, she pulled herself up to her feet, and walked out the door. 

The campus was quiet. There were a few others outside with light charms reading books, and a few staring at the sky. The grasses welcomed Ellen with its yielding ways, and she settled, face up watching the night sky. She chanted softly, "Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Draco, Cepheus, Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Pegasus--" memorizing the star chart for the Northern Hemisphere, until she ran out of winter constellations, and began on the summer. Repeating them over and over in an endless dance of the heavens, she ignored everything around her. Hours passed in the silence of the grass and sky, broken only by her whispers.

It hadn't felt very long when the Head Boy had knelt down by her side, and spoke loudly, "It's not right to be out this late, kiddo."

Ellen sat up with a start, "I'm sorry, Cato" she looked around, noticing that the rest of the students had left the great outdoors to study their pillows instead, "I—"

"Got involved in Astronomy?" the seventh-year smiled, "I did the same thing my first year."

"Did it work?"

"Well, I'm here now," Cato grabbed Ellens hand to help her up,"In fact I think the Head Girl busted me." Cato was a well-liked Ravenclaw, eager to go into a political career. He was one of the types that proved that the ambitious weren't always placed in Slytherin.

"Who was Head Girl then?" Ellen asked, her natural curiosity getting the better of herself.

"The current Professor Granger, if I can remember correctly. She'd probably get mad if I called her Hermione. Now, kiddo, go back to your House and I won't take points off."

"Sure thing," she grinned, and quietly turned away.

Cato watched her walk back, and then turned around, "I know you're watching. Come out."

"Who, me?" the voice took offense as the rest of him walked out of the shadows, "Merlin, I thought you'd never say anything." 

"Yes, you Jeremiah. I don't know what your interest with that girl is, but it can't be right," Cato scowled at the confident fourth-year, "5 points off Hufflepuff for being out this late." 

"Fine. I'll add it to the collection."

"And I'm taking you back to your House, so I can guarantee that there's no trouble from you." Cato added quickly. The first time he told Jeremiah to go back to his House that year, he'd been met the next day with an inappropriately transfigured Potions book, which had most definitely not gone over well with Professor Snape.

In the dark, the moonlight shined down on the two boys, the younger nearly matching the older in height. The look on his face betrayed his light voice and his lack of years. 

He walked with the confidence of a prince, something Cato had noticed at the beginning of the year, a swagger that just meant, I own this place, and everything within it. It chilled Cato to the inner depths of his Head Boy body. The younger boy reached his House, mumbled his password and gave Cato a most unwelcome glance before entering. 

Hermione was in the midst of finishing the sixth-years exams for Muggle Studies. It was 3 am, but a night that she fell asleep without the aide of a potion was rare these days. There had been one a week or so ago, after taking a run for most of the early evening hours and now frustrated herself over a question she wanted to ask but couldn't word it right.

She put down her quill, and produced the correct amount of duplicating charms on the exams. The deepness of the night stared at her from her window, and begged her to join the grass outside. She followed, her nightly ritual dragging her forward. A walk to clear her head, enabling her to get an hour of blissful sleep was what she needed.

Only a few more days and she could try to get some sleep in her parents house, while searching for her own summer place. Obviously, she had to search within the Wizarding society, otherwise what would she say to future landlords?

"So what do you do for a living?" the owner would say.

"Oh, I'm a Professor at a boarding prep school," Hermione would reply.

"Anything I should know about you?" he could say, with the look of 'she's a professor? So young' on his face.  
"I've helped save the world a dozen times, oh and can I connect the fireplace to the Floo network?"

"Erm, what was your name again?"   
"Hermione Granger." 

"How do you spell _that?" the landlord would eventually say._

Oh yes…that would _really work out well._

Not that the Weasley household hadn't offered her to crash at the Burrow, or that Harry offered his inherited house. That really ooked her out. The attachment that Harry and herself had burned out after a year of being together, but they had stuck together for another year. Even after that they continued to stick with each others as friends. That was for the best, they worked much better as fiercely loyal friends than lovers. She didn't want to be stuck living in the same house again, just as it would drag up very pleasant memories that didn't need repeating.

The night was much like every other had been since her memories has resurfaced. Chilly, slightly damp, and hardly calming. She saw a few of her pupils sneaking out, likely doing things she shouldn't have allowed them to do. Tonight, she stopped caring about that. _I did the same thing a few times, did I not?   
Her walk brought her close to the Slytherin House where a figure lay on the ground. A small one, probably a first year up late. Hermione shrugged and started to walk over when the Head Boy appeared near there._

_Good kid, Hermione smiled,__ keeping a tradition alive. _

_ "Interesting, Professor Granger that you should be out so late," the voice was unmistakable coming from behind her, "Especially by my House. If I recall, you never were too fond of Slytherins."_

"Amazing, Severus," Hermione answered, noting that Snapes eyes ticked a little at the very mention of his own name, "That you would even speak to a Gryffindor this late at night, and not take away House Points."

"Unfortunately I cannot take away points from my fellow teachers," he replied, "otherwise Minerva and myself would have a tidy little war on our hands."

"An' both houses would be in the negatives," Hermione smirked, "Couldn't sleep, Professor?"

As things bear out, he couldn't sleep that night. His head was racked with a thin veil of ache. Nothing that was not able to be handled, but it was absolutely impossible to sleep with. Then the prospect of catching young Hufflepuffs mid-snog appealed to him, and he walked out of his tragic-looking Dungeon rooms. When there weren't any children out, he changed his direction for an almost morning stroll. 

"No, Granger, as a matter of fact, I am entranced by the moon. I am entranced by the fact that our little charges like to sneak out of their cushy houses with other little children who are then driven to frolic underneath the same moon."

"Hmm, a very Pagan thing under the moon. Particularly the night before exams."  
"I never claimed any of my students were brilliant. Except you, of course."

Hermione stopped in mid-stride, "I do believe you must be sick, Severus. You have never complemented me before."  
He quickened his pace, leaving Hermione in a very befuddled wake.

"Oh gentlemen, I really would like to hear your ideas on what we can do now," the Hufflepuff common room was freezing as Jeremiah spoke, "I need a weakness we can exploit on this girl. So far she's got wonder-man Snape on her side-"  
"That relationship has been getting shaky, at best. She's the eager one on that side," another boy said, "Anything else? Family life?"

"Mothers a bit anal retentive, but her fathers a Hufflepuff to the core," a girl sneered, her robes marking her as a Slytherin, "But then, even the sweetest of 'Puffs can be a bit lax in where their loyalties lie, right Jeremiah?"

He was closing her eyes, "I think it's time for some good old fashion manipulation. We need her, we must do whatever we can to have her."  
"Alienate her from her father. Although, her father can do that on his own," the girl responded sardonically, "He's not happy about the whole Slytherin thing. She also discussed a Midnight Mass she went to on Christmas, and father dearest expressed a desire for her to confess that she had wronged her parents."

"Church? Well then, that'll do nicely, "Jeremiah grinned wickedly, "Yes, that'll do it just fine."

The morning finished arriving, and the day passed by with the sounds of moaning and groaning that accompany any well-planned exam. But the students walked in, sat down with their anti-cheating quills and parchment, unloaded their heads of all the knowledge they had supposedly learned, and promptly walked out telling each other the degree of how well or poorly they had done.

The professors on the other hand, celebrated. They were done for the year. No matter how happy the students are when the summer holidays began, teachers rejoice. The Staff Room was evident of it. Flitwick had charmed banners to read "Goodbye, Good Luck" and in smaller letters, "Here's your grades, what's your hurry?" with a little animated pupil being kicked out. Also hanging on the wall was a sheet of parchment, meant for everyone to write down where they would be during the summer. Draco: Malfoy Manor, Hooch: London, and so on. Ingrid was staying over at Hogwarts as a supervisor, and two spots were left entirely blank. Snape, as a matter of choice, was as secretive as ever. The Headmaster knew where he would be, and that was all that was needed. Hermione, just hadn't found a place yet. As sure as rain, she kept being offered places to crash, and she finally took to Harry's as a very last resort, and she promised herself that she wouldn't live on his kindness. Harry didn't want visitors, but as always, he was the type that would help his friends.

Despite the fact that he was shown no love until very late in life, he has the biggest heart. If only--

If only Ginny hadn't died.

A year after the rather mutual breakup between Hermione and Harry, he had finally realize there was a girl, right smack in front of him, that did carry a torch as fiery as her hair. The Boy-Who-Lived fell deeply and madly and every other word in love with Ginny. Nothing could express the joy on her face when he finally came around to see the red hair girl. They clicked as a puzzle pieces should. Hermione, was a comfortable piece, but just didn't sit right in the puzzle. Ginny did.  
And then Ginny was dead. It was sudden.. It was Voldemorts first true strike against Harry, and it stung, like a bastard. Harry died that night too, a little death every time her walk was missed next to his. Cells taken off his collective heartbeats.  
Later that year, he had expected to die at his final meeting with Voldemort. He knew he could never get there alone. Ron was easy to talk into it. Hermione was not. With no training besides the education she got in DADA, Hermione did not know what to do. She had her intellect, but that could only take her so far in battle. And what Harry proposed was a real battle, not choosing the right bottle out of a lineup. 

"Hermione, please."  
"Forget it Harry, what good am I?" Hermione motioned quietly back, "I can tell you what to do, but I'm not any real use."  
"That's not true. You have a quick wand, good sense, and more importantly," Harry finished, "If you don't do this. I'm going to sit around on my arse and write dreadful poetry. And I'll do it at your house."  
Hermione stopped dead, and let him finish babbling until she gave him the answer he needed, "I'll do it Harry, because you'd do the mother tongue a disservice otherwise."

The story went on. Ron fell first, a direct wand blast that he was lucky to have survived, and was found later by a French girl who he went nuts for later. Hermione went down next, her own victim.   
No one knows what Harry did to destroy Voldemort. He never spoke about it, and no one had prompted him to, the few times he awoke from his self-induced coma. Voldemort was dead and gone, and that was the end of it. Bring on the champagne and free-flowing Butterbeer.

Hermione left the staff party early, and downed a draught of Dreamless Sleep Potion. The next day was the End-of-Term Feast. Ravenclaw won, thanks to their brilliant seeker, and being meek the whole year. Hufflepuff, as usual, came in last, due to being too meek during the year (with a few frightening exceptions).

Ellen went back home and faced her parents. Her father hugged her, and her mother locked herself up daily in the master bedroom, except to make meals. She muttered away about how nice it would be to have a normal family, to send her child to a normal school. Her father grew roots into his library, rediscovering his old books. They woke up on Sunday mornings, dressed in their best, and went to the local Church. Taking solace into the familiar rituals and practices, Ellen walked a lot to the Church and just sat. Not being able to use her magic was boring, so she read every book she could swipe from her dad's hands (which wasn't a lot) and engrossed herself utterly into the particular magic of the written word. And she started a journal on her twelfth birthday.

_ "Honor is a very tricky thing. Some men claim to have honor, but they don't realize that their honor is so self-serving that it's not real honor, is ego straightforward. Professor Snape once told me that there is no such thing as redemption, only the ways we cope with our hungry lives. Of course he's not right. God redeems us. God will even redeem me for being a Slytherin, since I'm hated for it.._

_I don't see how I hurt the family. I don't see how Slytherin is much different from any other House. We form groups of friends and compete against other groups of friends. It's they way it has always been. I just want to do my best, and if I can achieve it by being in the so called evil house, so be it."_

And during the summer, Jeremiah sat down and waited. He could be patient. The girl would come around. Her family could tend to themselves…he just had to make sure things happened. Things would happen, even if he had to tear her apart from the inside out, he'd rebuild her as the perfect tool.

She wouldn't have a clue. Ellen simply would not realize that she fell to his power. Jeremiah would be a shadow king.

A/N Only Ellen, Jeremiah and Ingrid are mine. Anything you recognize belongs to JKR.

Special thanks to my betas Em and Mike. Particularly to Mike as he encouraged me to actually come up with some reasoning behind things, like Harry's behavior, poor Ginny, the alternate title. 

Other little thanks: to the Lexicon, various astronomy sites and magazines, various Latin websites (who offered my inspiration for Cato). That'll help me until my Latin classes start.


End file.
